


Of Puzzles, Pieces, and Slow-Burn Reaches

by Ladelle



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 21:06:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7861123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladelle/pseuds/Ladelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the championship is over, Neil and Andrew begin a slow exploration of intimacy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Puzzles, Pieces, and Slow-Burn Reaches

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly I finished the book and felt like I was missing something so I wrote this in like, a minute just to put the scenes I had in my head on paper.

* * *

 

 It was something they were working on, and if the team noticed, they were smart enough to keep quiet.   
  
Small touches, here and there - Neil squeezing Andrew's shoulder after practice, or dragging his fingers back and through Andrew's sweat-sheened hair. It was a slow-going process, met with unintentional resistance; more than half the time Andrew stilled under the attempts, and Neil always found himself leaning inward, his voice low so that only two of them could hear.  
  
"Do you hate me?"  
  
A bored stare always preceded the same answer.  
  
"100%."   
  
Neil often smiled and Andrew always looked away, a look of annoyance drawing his lips into a thin line.  
  
After a while, Neil began to realize that the irritation had nothing to do with him.  
  
  
***  
  
  
A good three weeks passed after the championship game before the team pulled together a movie night, and as usual, Neil left Andrew to fall into the routine of pouring liquor, going through bottles one by one in the kitchen.  
  
The night started loud, the first real gathering aside from practice that had drawn them together. Half the team had been wrangled into extra study sessions and make-up work in order to keep grades afloat, and as everyone got back on track, so did their social livelihood.  
  
"We should have gone to Columbia," Nicky complained, dropping to the floor beside Neil. When he leaned back, his head rested on the empty couch and his dark hair fell to either side of his face. "I want ice cream."  
  
"I'm sure if you ask nicely Dan will let you choose the movie," Renee said, sliding into the couch above them. She found a seat behind Neil, who tipped his head back to peer up at her.  
  
"That's a big responsibility," he said, surprised at the amount of sarcasm his words managed to capture.  
  
From beside him, Nicky snorted. "Just for that, I'm gonna go find Dan."  
  
Neil watched him go only to lose him in the clustered crowd.  
  
Laughter erupted from Matt unexpectedly, somewhere Neil couldn’t see. Allison’s own reply was bubbly, and glasses clinked from not too far away.  
  
The soundtrack was strangely comforting considering Neil’s life on the run; it was difficult to remember what pure silence felt like, what it was like to be alone, listening for death’s footsteps behind him.   
  
"Hey," Renee said, and at first, Neil thought she was speaking to him. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d tugged him from his headspace, but in this case, her attention was raised to the owner of a shadow that fell across them. It belonged to Andrew, and he was looking between them, two bottles of beer in hand.  
  
Neil made an effort to move, to make room for Andrew to sit next to him - but it didn't happen the way he expected. Andrew fell to a crouch in front of him before turning to sit, falling back to rest against Neil's chest as if this was something they were used to - something they'd done before.  
  
It wasn't. Neil felt himself got rigid with surprise, felt Andrew match his reaction. It didn’t stop Andrew from settling back, however, to elbowing Neil’s arms into relaxing, to prodding at Neil’s legs until they weren’t so obviously uncomfortable.  
  
A small breath of silence invaded the space, enough that Neil heard Andrew's nail scratch against the label in his bottle - a nervous tick that was unusual since Andrew was...well, Andrew.  
  
So Neil relaxed, breathed in the smell of hard liquor and cigarettes as Andrew's hair brushed his nose, and reached around with a motion that implied he wanted a bottle.  
  
The quiet of the room lasted a matter of moments, the chatter quickly picking back up. Andrew relinquished a bottle and Neil took a long pull before setting it to his side, feeling the tension that kept Andrew taut, as if it was taking everything he had to trust someone to be behind him.  
  
"I hate you," Andrew murmured, and Neil could feel the other's heart pounding; a nervous staccato that Neil wished words could slow.  
  
He settled for saying, "Thank you."   
  
Andrew wrapped his lips around the crown of his bottle and nearly drank it dry.   
  
Neil spent the entire movie breathing him in.  
  
  
***  
  
  
It wasn't long after that Neil caught on, began to see the stubborn progression of someone otherwise unmovable. He wasn't one to question, but he was certainly one to worry - after all, Andrew was chipping away at his past with the same intensity that Neil took to the court, which was oddly unnerving.  
  
"Just do it," Andrew said one night. Neil's eyes had burned a path from Andrew's neck to his thighs, heart hammering even though Andrew was still fully clothed.   
  
It was all forbidden territory, and Neil had accepted that, even if his eyes couldn't help but want to memorize what his fingers couldn't.  
  
"What?" Neil asked.  
  
Andrew's eyes glinted in a way that would have caused anyone else to look away, but they were sitting atop Neil's bed, knee-to-knee, and there was no place to go but forward.  
  
Neil held out a hand, watching his fingers close in, but he drew back, frowning.  
  
"This isn't really about me," he said, lifting his gaze knowingly. "I'm fine waiting."  
  
"You're fine with lots of things," Andrew said, and his tone was snippy enough that he looked away, that same annoyed expression pulling his mouth into a frown.  
  
Neil leaned forward, crawled to the side just enough so that he could ghost his lips across Andrew's, questioning.   
  
"What do you want?" He asked, because the coldness still lingered in Andrew's gaze. Andrew was a puzzle and some pieces, Neil suspected, might never fit.  
  
It was fascinating how easy it was for Andrew's eyes to pin Neil in place. Their color varied in different lighting and tonight, with only one lamp on in the room, they seemed dark and all encompassing.  
  
"Lay back," Andrew said against Neil's lips, and Neil found himself moving slowly, taking a deep breath to dispel a rush of something that sent goosebumps rising on his arms.   
  
Drawing back, Neil lay down; he tugged his pillow under his head and his heart began to race when Andrew's hands found both of his knees and forced his legs to part.  
  
It would have been different, if they'd both been naked - if Neil hadn't been in one of his age-old shirts and a pair of pajama pants, and if Andrew hadn't been dressed from the day - still wearing jeans and a graphic tee.  
  
There was something darkly intimate about the fact they hadn't quite gotten there, that Andrew could still climb between Neil's thighs and wear this look - a controlled hunger, something wild dancing behind his eyes that he kept tightly leashed.  
  
Neil had told Andrew once that he wanted to see the other lose control, wanted to see what Andrew was like behind all of the walls he'd put up - but at times like this, he could feel it, the danger behind it, the piercing gaze that drove Neil to shallow breaths as he realized he would do anything Andrew asked.  
  
Andrew placed hands to either side of Neil's head and leaned down. Kissed him lightly. It didn't match the way his eyes caught lamplight; Neil hadn't expected something sweet from a mouth that looked so hungry.  
  
Legs folded against either side of his own, and Neil felt a rush as Andrew sat up and tugged his shirt over his head, just before tossing it carelessly to the floor.  
  
"Do it," he said, and he dropped his hands to his sides as an open invitation.  
  
Neil accepted it for what it was; realized that this probably felt like control for Andrew, or as much as he was going to get. With Neil pinned below, he could easily react to anything he disliked, though Neil had a feeling he would grit his teeth and allow whatever Neil offered.  
  
It wasn't what Neil wanted, but he took it because Andrew didn't do things like this - didn't leave himself wide open for no reason.  
  
"If you want me to stop, just tell me," Neil said.  
  
"I'll make you." Andrew answered.  
  
Neil trusted that, and took what he could of this small give, at least until Andrew collected his wandering fingers and leaned forward, dragging them up and above Neil's head.  
  
Not for the first time, he wouldn't look Neil in the eyes.  
  
"How much do you hate me?" Neil asked, his pulse sluggish with the feeling Andrew might have overstepped his own boundaries.  
  
Without fail, Andrew replied, "100%."  
  
A few knots in Neil's stomach loosened, and he squeezed Andrew's fingers with his own.  
  
"Let's go to bed."  
  
Andrew moved to obey.  
  
  
***  
  
  
It became a daily thing, a routine among others. At some point before bed Neil found himself straddled, found Andrew easing his way into becoming familiar with the feel of Neil's palms against his skin.  
  
Not all nights were the same. Some were better than others. There were fleeting moments when Andrew's breath would catch, and others where he'd smack Neil's hand away and stumble off and out of the room, needing time alone.  
  
It was on a weeknight, weeks later when the habit was interrupted - when Nicky and Aaron had a fallout big enough to have Aaron knocking at Neil and Andrew's door, looking reluctant to ask if he could stay for a few nights.  
  
Andrew had shrugged and even though Neil had gotten used to less company, he offered Aaron the couch until things got sorted.  
  
Nights passed and nothing happened.  
  
With Aaron sleeping just beyond a doorway, it felt like their privacy had been ripped away. Their explorations were intimately complicated, and infinitely needed. Without them, it felt like falling backwards steps at a time.  
  
On the third night, after Andrew had stubbornly batted him away at practice, Neil quietly changed for bed before climbing into Andrew's.  
  
The glare that greeted him wasn't unexpected, but Neil flickered his eyes to the space behind Andrew and whispered, "Yes or no?"  
  
Quiet stretched between them.  
  
Andrew turned onto his side, swallowing loud enough to hear. He sounded angry when he grit, _“_ Yes,” into his pillow.  
  
Neil took his time getting under the covers and stretching out. He forgot, at times, just how much height he had on Andrew; it seemed impossible, since Andrew's had a presence that seemed to overshadow everything around it.  
  
They rested for a moment before Neil turned into his side, intent. He tapped Andrew's shoulder and licked his lips, knowing his next question was a risk.  
  
"I want to be closer. Yes or no?"  
  
Andrew didn't answer.   
  
Neil was okay with that. He was fine slowly working at this, building trust between them. He was ready to close his eyes, ready to let sleep claim him when he heard Andrew say, as if against his better judgement, “Yes.”  
  
Neil's heart pounded in his chest. He thought for a moment that he'd misheard, or that he'd imagined it. But Andrew's head twisted and that glare was back, and Neil pressed forward until they were completely curled against each other.  
  
They stayed like that for a while, and Neil wrapped a lazy arm around Andrew's torso, unsure of what to do with it otherwise. There were many instances in his life that he'd committed to memory, most of which he wished he could forget. This moment was different, it was warmth and impossibility, and he wanted it to last forever.  
  
When Andrew found his wrist, it was surprising - even more confusing was the way Andrew guided Neil's hand to the bottom of his shirt, as if giving permission to explore what was underneath.   
  
"Yes?" Neil asked as his fingers grazed the skin just above Andrew's waistband.  
  
Annoyed, Andrew replied, "Stop asking."  
  
So Neil did. He touched and traced until Andrew finally worked his shirt off and shoved it out from under the covers and onto the floor. Warm arousal burned between them, tempting Neil to kiss a trail from Andrew's neck to his ear. His lips lingered there and Andrew shuddered.  
  
"I really, really hate you." Andrew's tone was shallow as he battled what had always been his better judgement.  
  
"I know," Neil replied.   
  
Andrew moved, and Neil let him. He scooted sideways as Andrew rolled onto his back, and then they were kissing while Andrew's hands sank low on his frame.  
  
Neil didn't have to look to see what he was doing. He could feel it in the way Andrew's back lifted, in the way his forearm moved, in the way he was forced to break their deeper kisses to suck in impatient pulls of air.  
  
Neil traced lazy circles on Andrew's stomach as he came, and kissed him lethargically through the aftermath of deep, tired breaths.  
  
"When Aaron leaves, maybe we can..." Neil's sentence wandered, and it was a mistake, because Andrew tensed. It was no surprise, Neil hard against him, the implication only somewhat clear.  
  
"No." Andrew stated, as if the thought alone had swept away any pleasure from what he'd just experienced.  
  
Neil shook his head.  
  
"Not you," he said, and took a breath, because it felt like an odd thing to confess wanting to try. "Me,” he attempted to clarify. “If you want.”  
  
Andrew stared at him. Neil could only hold his eyes for a moment before he felt that even the darkness would give away the redness climbing to his ears.  
  
"Okay." Andrew said.  
  
"Okay," Neil replied, and he swallowed when Andrew pushed up onto his knees and crawled to the place between Neil's thighs, inviting Neil to come in the wet-hot heat of his mouth, against the flat of his tongue.


End file.
